Korean Nights
by Settiai
Summary: The nights in Korea were colder than he had expected.


The nights in Korea were colder than he had expected.

Hawkeye didn't know why he was surprised at that. Everything about Korea was worse than he had expected. The days were longer, the nights were shorter, death was everywhere . . . and, worst of all, he was starting to get used to the general crappiness of his life. Every now and then, he even found himself enjoying certain aspects of it.

Not the death, of course. If he never again had to spend ten tedious hours putting a kid barely out of diapers back together, only to stand by and watch him die despite it all the very next day, he would be willing to give up almost anything. Maybe even sex.

Sex. Now that was one of the aspects of life in Korea that he had to admit wasn't that bad. True, most of the time it was fairly meaningless. Here they were, thousands of miles from home in a place that Hawkeye sometimes thought must be the closest thing to hell on earth that was humanly possible. Sex didn't mean love, or commitment, or any of the other things that it meant in the real world. The world outside of Korea. All it meant was, for at least a little while, two people weren't alone.

He thought that might be what scared him the most.

Once upon a time, Benjamin Franklin Pierce had believed in fairy tale endings. He had believed that sex and love were one and the same. A person couldn't have sex without being in love, just like there wasn't such a thing as romantic love without sex. Even though he had been with quite a few women— and even one or two men— before the war, he had at least believed that he was in love with each and every one of them.

Then had come Korea, with its blood and its death and its loneliness. He had quickly learned that alcohol and companionship were pretty much the only things that would keep someone from going completely insane. Not that they stopped someone from going a little crazy. Over the past few months, Hawkeye had come to the conclusion that nothing could stop that from happening. All it took to strip away someone's sanity was opening a letter that said: "Congratulations. Your country wants to send you to hell. Have a nice trip." At least, that's what he swore his had said.

And he was being sarcastic in his own mind. That was never a good sign.

With a tired sigh, Hawkeye opened his eyes and rolled over. In the murky darkness of the Swamp, he could see Trapper and Frank both sleeping. Or, at least, Frank was sleeping— his snoring was proof of that— and Trapper was lying on his cot. It was hard to tell when he was actually asleep and when he was faking it. Like Hawkeye himself had been for the past few hours. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Still can't sleep?"

A few feet away, Trapper turned toward him and propped himself up one arm. "Don't give me that look," he said warningly. "You've been tossing and turning for the last two hours. Did you really think I wasn't going to notice that you were awake?"

Hawkeye snorted. "Frank didn't," he said, gesturing toward the unmoving lump lying on the third cot.

"That's your argument?" Trapper asked incredulously. "Frank didn't? Frank wouldn't notice a piece of shrapnel the size of a watermelon inside one of his patients."

The object of their discussion murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "Margaret" before rolling over, his snores increasing in volume.

Hawkeye eyed him warily before glancing back toward Trapper. "You do have a point."

"Of course I do," Trapper agreed, reluctantly pushing himself up into a sitting position as well. "So are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I need to pour us some drinks first?"

At that, it was Hawkeye's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You do know what time it probably is, right?"

"We definitely need the drinks first," Trapper agreed.

Shaking his head, Hawkeye stood up and grabbed two glasses that were lying nearby. As Trapper passed by him, heading toward the still, he handed them over. "Go easy on the paint thinner this time, bartender."

Trapper snorted. "You're in the wrong place if you want miracles," he shot back.

"See if I come here again," Hawkeye groused as he took the glass that was offered him. "The drinks are awful and help is rude."

"But you have to admit that you can't beat the price." Trapper held up his glass and clinked it against Hawkeye's. "Cheers."

Hawkeye held up his glass. "Cheers," he repeated. "Here's to death and sex and insanity and kids dying young. All the great things that make up life in Korea." Then he downed the drink in a single gulp.

Trapper stared for a second. "This is about that kid, isn't it?" he asked, comprehension dawning on him . "The one that died this afternoon from the infection."

Hawkeye looked down at his glass and didn't reply.

Trapper sighed. "Damn it, Hawk, that wasn't your fault," he said wearily. "You did everything you could to save him. Hell, you even did a couple of things that I would have sworn you couldn't have done if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"It still wasn't enough," Hawkeye replied softly.

"And your name's not God," Trapper said heatedly. "Or at least it wasn't the last time I checked."

Hawkeye let out a chuckle at that, and he finally looked back up. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said, smiling weakly. "When I was a kid, my dad used the name God a lot when he was talking about me."

Trapper couldn't help but smile at that. "It wouldn't happen to have been following by damnit, would it?"

"Are you sure you don't know my dad?" Hawkeye asked.

"Can't say that I've ever had the pleasure," Trapper replied, grinning. His smile faded a bit when he saw the look in Hawkeye's eyes, though. Despite the cheerful façade, it was obvious that his friend wasn't quite back to his old self. "I'm going to have to come up with something to cheer you up, aren't I?"

Hawkeye shot him a confused look.

Trapper glanced over at Frank and eyed him speculatively for a moment. Then he glanced back at Hawkeye and grinned. "He's obviously a heavy sleeper if we haven't woken him up by now."

Hawkeye looked over at Frank himself. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, a bit of life coming back into his voice.

"First of all, we'd need to find something glue-like," Trapper said, his eyes twinkling.

"Something glue-like," Hawkeye repeated, thoughtfully. Then he grinned. "Do you think some potatoes from the mess tent would work?"

Trapper tilted his head and slowly began to smile.


End file.
